


Don't Stop The Devil

by LillySteam44, SlipperySkell, TheFearsomeJabberwock



Series: Wild Wasteland, Baby! [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst and Humor, Cannibalism, F/M, Failed Suicide Attempt, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Past Abuse, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-12-07 09:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18233339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillySteam44/pseuds/LillySteam44, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlipperySkell/pseuds/SlipperySkell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFearsomeJabberwock/pseuds/TheFearsomeJabberwock
Summary: “I know we were friends, and what I did was real rotten, even as far as raiders go- but you deserved it. You deserved that goddamn puck as much as I deserve this!” Gage told him, his hands clenched into fists.“Gage, who the fuck do you think I am?” Mason asked, honestly confused. Gage wasn’t seeing him, that was for damn sure, but who the hell was Gage seeing that caused this much fucking terror? There were so many rumors that floated around about Gage’s past, it was hard to tell which ones were the truth and which ones were more embellishment than anything. If even half the rumors were true, Gage could have a dozen enemies like that.“If this is actually fuckin’ hell, then you’re stuck in here with me just as much as I’m stuck in here with you, Colter,”__One-shots based in the same universe as The Devil You Know, from the perspective of characters other than Porter Gage.





	1. RedEye: Blood in the Water

Honestly, if Russell had to describe the Overboss with an apt metaphor? Wrecking ball. She was like a fucking wrecking ball off of its fucking chain, crushing and smashing everything in its path until it came to rest triumphantly at the end of its destruction. 

Fucking poetry. 

She did just that. At three in the fucking morning. RedEye was working on recording his newest hit when all the sudden she slammed her shoulder into the door of his recording studio, charged in like a bull in a china shop, threw her rifle to the side, and tossed off her coat. Was she aiming for him? He was pretty sure she was aiming for him.

She did everything with a certain chutzpah. 

“Baby! Quit raidin’ my hEART!” Russell threw himself from his chair as a oilskin leather duster came flying his way. It might have only been leather but but Russell was sure there was metal involved, and maybe black magic too, if he was drunk. He was kinda still drunk. Anyways, she threw her coat at him, and he tried hard to dodge it. He failed, but at least he tried right? She didn’t even wait for him not to be a tangle of limbs, leather, and acoustic guitar before stomping her pretty little ass up to where he was scrambling on the floor. 

“I’m angry!” Kincaid announced. Just like that. Just “I’m angry” and nothing else. She had no flair for storytelling, no sense of drama at all.

“Boss, it's three in the morning-” Russell shoved the heavy leather off his face and looked up at her looming form. She crossed her arms and glared down at him. He opened his mouth to say something else but she cut him off. 

“I don’t care. You’re awake, talk to me,” Kincaid told him as she glared down at him. It was like she was begging him to say no, it was all the DJ wanted to do. He just wanted to tell her to get the fuck out of his studio. He wanted to sass her and, well, that was probably the worst idea, considering she was the overboss and all. 

“Ok.” 

She nodded decisively, walking over to one of the spare chairs in the studio and dragging it along the cement. She could have picked it up, she could have lifted it just so that it didn’t make that god awful noise. But no, much akin to nails on a chalkboard, she drug the chair over in such a way that seemed painfully slow. When she finally made it over to him, seemingly dragging it out for her own amusement, she spun the chair around in such a way that when she sat on it she could lean on the back rest.  
Because of course she would. 

Russell discarded her oilskin duster, and set aside his guitar before climbing back into his plush recording chair. It was a very nice chair, he had paid the pack big caps to get the plush leather redone. He was very proud of his chair and happy she didn’t take it. 

Absentmindedly, he turned off his recording equipment. The boss probably didn’t want her dirty confessions marked down on holo for anyone to listen to. He also wasn’t going to get his new song done tonight, he could tell. 

“Ok boss. Lay it on me. What is so important you couldn’t wait until the sun had briefly considering coming up?” he asked, leaning on his hand. She fidgeted with her nails for a moment, seeming to chew on what she wanted to say. She was quiet for a moment, her eyes darting from the left and the right. 

“The math don’t add up right. There are holes in the story, and I wanna know why! And if I wanna know shit, I go to you.” Kincaid told him, her gaze locking on him unblinking. He was never going to get used to that, never. It would take him a thousand billion trillion years to get used to how intense the Boss’ gaze was. He squirmed slightly, sinking into his seat. 

“Yeah?” he asked, and she bit her lip and looked away. Was she honestly going to need more prompting? Was he going to have to drag it out of her? He looked her over, narrowing his eyes. She was still all dolled up from the party, her makeup all prim and proper and her curls still cascading down her shoulders just so.

But she wasn’t in her pretty little champagne dress no more. She’d swapped it out for jeans and a thin little spaghetti strap tank top that showed off the top of that fancy bone and flower piece she had inked right on her chest. 

“I took Gage with me so that if I got in danger, he could bail me out without me saying stupid shit that was going to insult the bosses,” Kincaid said flatly, scratching at her hair. She started picking out the product, her fingers undoing what must have been a good two hours of work on her hair. “Well, not exactly. I can take care of myself, but that’s what I told him.”

That’s what she told him? There was some juicy gossip that she didn’t seem keen on sharing. Anyone else was likely to spread it around faster than an STI around the Zoo, but Russ knew better that to say anything, because sharing gossip about the Boss’s personal life could easily lead to his head stuck on a pike. But Russ could dream that she’d clue him in, right? Did Kincaid have a thing for Porter Gage of all fucking people? For the walking roll cage? The man with the personality of a rotten potato? That Porter Gage?

But didn’t she just proclaim her lesbianisim in front of every important figure in Nuka World?

“He was supposed to stop me from doing something stupid. Like announce that I’m a lesbian in front of everyone.” Yeah, that was kinda dumb to do in Russell’s opinion. “Now you know Mags is gonna send her prettiest little Operators up to Fizztop and I’m gonna have to be like ‘sorry no, I can’t get involved with someone who works for me, that’d be weird’ And then they’re gonna pull some crocodile tears and I’m gonna have to awkwardly close the door in their pretty little faces and I just don’t think I’m emotionally equipped to deal with that right now,” Kincaid told him, gesturing wildly with her hands at the thought of pretty little raiders showing up on her doorstep at all hours of the day. Or busting into her home like they owned the place, throwing their coat at her, and knocking her out of her favorite chair. As an example. One he wasn’t going to voice, but you know. 

An example. 

Russell didn’t make it this far in his life by voicing his every opinion afterall. Even if it was really hard to keep his mouth shut sometimes.

“And like what if Mags shows up with her hair all perfectly coiled and primped with her pretty little lips whispering sweet sweet nothings in my ear like she’s gonna get all the parks and get to do something like I dunno touch my boob or some shit.” Jesus she had a lot on her mind, no wonder she couldn’t sleep. Russ leaned on his hand while listening to her ramble, just arching an eyebrow when ever her tangents got weird.

“And I’m gonna have to be like ‘sorry Mags, if I don’t want your brother touching my boob I don’t want you touching my boob either’, and like she’s pretty but I can’t get over the fact she’s related to that wet paper sack of a human being.” Kincaid shuddered, shaking her head like she was trying to expel demons from her mind. “Like he was licking my arm man, I don’t know where he learned to kiss but if he’d tried to kiss my face he’d have licked my makeup off. Have you ever seen someone with half of their makeup licked off?”

“No-”

“It’s terrible! Its bad!” Kincaid told him as she leaned forward in her seat. “And he was all up in my space like “lelelelelel I’ma lick the hair off your arm and tell you how pretty you’d look in my mother’s dress’- the mother who I am pretty sure the two of them murdered by the way!” Kincaid gestured wildly and Russell had to duck so that he wouldn’t get smacked right in his face. “He grabbed my ass, Russ! He grabbed my ass! With his greasy little hand tipped with terrible tiny penises!” 

Jesus christ. She just said that William Black, The raider boss, defacto heavy of the Operators, had penis fingers. That was too much, Russell had to fight tooth and nail to keep his composure because he was sure if he bust out laughing now, she was going to throttle him. 

Didn’t stop the smile that was tugging at his face though. 

“Penis! FINGERS!” Kincaid hissed with narrowed eyes, before dragging her hands down her face and smearing her makeup. 

“Porter was supposed to save me! And what was he off doing?” 

“Getting threatened by a-” he tried, but she wasn’t really paying attention to him and she just steamrolled over him.

“Making GOO GOO eyes at some Operator floozy!” Kincaid exploded and threw her hands in the air. “He’s sitting there necking with some hussy who done gone wiggled her ass at him while I’m having my arm hair licked off like I’m a fucking lollipop in some snot nosed little gremlin’s hands!” Kincaid groaned and covered her face. “And MASON was no help either! HE just sat there and laughed! He just LAUGHED while I looked at him, like ‘help me Mason! I’m being licked by Penis Fingers Mcgee’ and he just looked at me, like ‘you done gone dug yo own grave boss lady’ and I’m like ‘Thanks Mason, you’re the best’ and he’s like ‘no problem boss lady’ and I’m just casually having my arm hair licked off!” She was getting louder and louder and honestly Russell was having a hard time following if this conversation was entirely through facial expressions, or if they actually said that in front of William without him hearing, somehow.

He was pretty sure she was extrapolating from facial expressions. Or reading minds. Maybe the Boss could read minds. 

Oh no. 

Russell gave her a look and she just kept ranting about William, penis fingers, and how little help Porter was. 

So no. She couldn’t read minds. His super secret lyrics for his next hit were safe. For now. 

“Boss you know that wasn’t an Operator right?” Russell asked as his mind backtracked to what she’d said about Porter, and the ‘Operator Floozy’ who was distracting him. That was a vast misread of a situation if Russell had ever seen one. 

“I don’t care if she wasn’t an Operator! She could have been from the fucking Omertas for all I care!” She spat on the ground at the name, before stomping on her spit with her big ole heavy boots. 

“Didn’t they get wiped out? Didn’t you wipe them out?” Russell squinted at her and she threw her hands up. 

“NOT Important!” Kincaid proclaimed. “It was a fucking example!”

“It is important though! That wasn’t no Operator, she was a Disciple!” Russell shouted, which finally got Kincaid’s attention enough that she didn’t interrupt him right away. “That was Dixie! She’s Nisha’s left hand dude.” Russell leaned back and Kincaid just stared at him. Her eyes darted to the left for a moment, and then she squinted. God, he could see the gears turning in her head. He couldn’t help but mentally caution her from thinking too hard about it, looked like she was gonna blow a gasket. 

“Which one was Dixie, again?” she asked quietly as she looked back up at Russell.

“Dix is Nisha’s left hand, the one who handles all of the ‘outreach’, or as much outreach as Nisha does.” Russell scratched an itch as he spoke, trying to find a way to relay the gravity of Dixie going to Porter just a few hours before. “Savoy is who she sends when she wants someone dead, Dixie is who she sends when she wants to send a message.”

“A message?”

“A message. Usually the stabby kind.” 

“Oh no.”

“Oh no indeed, Boss, oh no indeed.” Russell leaned forward. He arched an eyebrow and leaned on his hand again. She was finally starting to put it together at least. 

“So what was she doing then?” Kincaid asked and Russell shrugged. 

“Fuck if I know, all I saw was our dear Porter-Potty got real stiff and glassy eyed when she got up close.” Russell didn’t know the details, he’d been up on the stage by that point. But he knew when he saw Dix, he had to get down off the stage and get Gage away from her. It was always bad news when Dixie was around. Bad omens and shit. That’s how people got stabbed. 

“The way you’re talking. There’s history, isn’t there?” Kincaid asked lowly, her eyes locked on him again. It was that unblinking scare. 

“You don’t know boss? Gage never-”

“Gage doesn’t share his every thought with me, Russell. And he sure as fuck hasn’t been forthcoming with anything from before I arrived. I ask and I get ‘Colter was an asshole’ and ‘shit was bad’ and that’s it. Nothing else. I wouldn’t be asking if I knew now would I?” 

Well honestly, Russ could understand why Gage didn’t share. His meager pride was just about all the man had left, but dammit if it wasn’t frustrating when Gage wouldn’t tell anyone what was wrong. He understood not opening up to the gang bosses, but Russ always tried to make sure Gage was never entirely alone.

“So Russell, are you going to actually shed some light on this unsatisfactory bitch of a situation? Or are you gonna make it so I have to drag it from you?” Kincaid was sharp, and it was a reminder of why she made a halfway decent Overboss. It was when that flip switched that the DJ was reminded just exactly how violent the woman could be. 

“No boss, you ain’t gonna have to drag it outta me. I ain’t interested in getting my fingers broken thank you very much.” Russell pushed himself up and motioned for Kincaid to follow.

Oh god, where to begin? Where to start? It was almost four in the goddamn morning there was no damn way he was going to be able to weave an interesting and compelling tale that would satisfy her. And if he was honest, there was nothing he could do right now to spare what little pride Porter had left. 

Russell led Kincaid through the hallowed halls of the service tunnels, walking in silence for a few minutes. He could feel her getting more and more antsy the longer they walked. Building tension was important RedEye supposed, and he needed time to think about how he was going to approach the story. Kincaid followed diligently, right behind him at all times.

Enough rumors had gone around, it was better she saw what actually happened before she started asking questions to people who could only give her maybe half an answer. 

“So why are we walking in a loop?” Kincaid asked, Russell looking up at her. “Because if you don’t start explaining this shit soon, I’m gonna die of boredom, and I’m taking you with me.” 

“Walking forward gives the illusion of forward momentum in a story” Russell told her sagely, with a nod for effect. She smacked the back of his head and he laughed, circling around and leading her up to the door of the security office. He pushed the door open, letting her enter first. 

“So not very many people have seen what I’m about to show you. Just me, Porter, and Mackenzie.” Russ walked over to the big security desk and dug around in one of the drawers. He pulled out a holotape then made his way over to the security array. There were roughly twenty screens, each flicking through different sections of Nuka World. Everything from the zoo to the insides of fizztop. The grille was absent from the live feed, thanks to Gage. The fucker didn’t like to be watched, and Russ couldn’t blame him, even if it had saved his ass before. 

Russell shoved the holotape into the computer, which took over the center most screen. It was the largest display, and would work well for what he needed to show her. “So like I was monitoring the screens, as I do. You know, keep the parks safe, see any threats and shit.” Russ started, Kincaid pulling up another chair. The feed on the center screen was of the Cola Cars arena. Kincaid sat down, eyes locked on the video of Colter working on his armor. “And I’m flicking through them and here’s Colter, doing asshole things, as the assholios-maximus does.” Russ gestured idly with his hands, looking over at Kincaid. 

“Was gonna flick away, ain’t no reason to watch the boss doing what the boss does for a good ninety percent of his day.” Russell paused and sucked in a breath as the door slid open to the arena. In walked Porter, sans his armor, sans his rifle, all he had was this dinky little ten-millimeter pistol tucked into the waistband of his pants like a giant tool.

Russell still couldn’t understand why Gage let his guard down like that. Why he walked into the lion’s den with nothing but a shitty pistol. 

“And then in comes Gage right?” Russ said as, on the screen, Gage sauntered his way over to the now long deceased Overboss. “So they spend their time talking right? They were friends I guess, before the whole Nuka-Thing. Gage helped run Colter’s gang, the gang that was wiped clean off the earth during the siege of Nuka-Town.” Gage was talking with Colter, there was no sound, but he was animated enough that it was easy to tell the gist. Looked like he was trying to be friendly, jovial even.

Colter on the other hand? Colter was cold. He didn’t look at Gage or really respond.

“So like, they were friends. Once upon a time, but not anymore. By this point, this is like, uhh, three weeks? A month, maybe? At most. Before you hopped on that tram by the way. If that.” Russ shrugged as he spoke and rubbed his neck idly. Kincaid wasn’t paying attention to him, she was just staring up at the screen all still like. It was like she wasn’t breathing, and she sure as fuck was not blinking. It was weird. It was very weird and Russell lost where he was in the story for a moment. 

“Do continue,” Kincaid told him without actually moving anything but her lips. That was REALLY weird and Russ felt like he had bugs crawling up his back watching her. But an order was an order, and honestly? Russell was a born storyteller, and he was born to perform.

But this? It was about to get to shit Russell wasn’t sure he could do justice.

“So they were friends before, but not so much now. And the bosses wanted Colter dead. Bad. it was really fucking bad.” Russell told her as he crossed his arms and pulled his knees up close to his chest. “The bosses were at each other’s throats, they were a hair from killing each other, hell, this was the time when Mason tarred and feathered the last two alphas and became the tool you know and love today.” 

“And I think Gage tried to warn him, tried to explain that if he didn’t get his shit together he was gonna get himself killed. Colter I mean. I mean yeah Gage was on the chopping block too, but when Colter was alive, Gage wasn’t as much of the target- least so far as the general populace was concerned. The bosses on the other hand? They had Gage by the balls, Boss.” Redeye curled up, watching the screen. “They wanted Colter gone. Dead, removed, they didn’t care. It fell on Gage to do that, because he was the one who convinced them to work for Colter in the first place.”

“He’d told me that much.” Kincaid said softly, watching Gage on the screen. He was trying to talk to Colter, leaning all casual like on a bumper car while Colter gave him one word answers and brushed him off. Russell was waiting, just waiting for that moment where the entire tone shifted. Where Gage shifted from chuckling at his own witticisms to pure terror. 

The moment Colter stood up. 

Gage just stared up at the brute of a man for a second too long- if he’d just have ran, just turned tail and booked it he might have gotten away. But he hesitated, and you could see the fear on his face so clearly despite the distance and the quality of the camera feed.

Kincaid’s eyes widened as Colter moved forward, faster than a man his size should have been able to, faster than Gage expected. He didn’t even have time to squeeze off a shot from his pistol. 

Colter got his big meaty hands on the smaller raider and he threw him into the wall, effectively trapping Gage in the arena. It put a massive wall of flesh between Gage and the exit and knocked the pistol out of Gage’s grasp. The feed panned to keep Porter in view, and into the frame stalked Colter. Gage tried to back away from the larger man, tried to scramble for the pistol, but Colter? Colter wasn’t having it. Gage received a hard kick to his gut for his trouble, and hit the wall again. It stunned him, likely stole the air right out of his chest.

“Its uh. Its graphic, Caid.” RedEye said softly, his eyes glued to the screen just like hers. It wasn’t like she was any stranger to violence, hell, considering what he’d seen she straight up enjoyed it. But this? This went beyond violence, it was damn near a slaughter. 

Gage shoved himself up and tried to back up, to get away, to do anything to escape. His back just hit the wall though, and Colter just swooped down and scooped him right up by the throat. 

The feed didn’t show how tight Colter’s grip was though, but Russell remembered. Russell remembered creeping into the arena, terrified out of his own god damn pants but still crawling up to the one dude who had treated him good in the entire fucking park. And he remembered the bruises, the welts, the swelling. He remembered that wheezy whisple of air as Gage lay there, all but choking on his own wind pipe. How he’d bit his own tongue and how blood just dripped out of his mouth. How Porter’s one eye was just glassy, like he was already dead. 

He shuddered, rubbing his eyes to get the mental image to dissipate. 

On the screen, Colter was slamming Porter into the wall and talking at him while Porter tried to claw his way out of Colter’s grasp. He was kicking and fighting and it did nothing. Might as well been trying to break a brick with his fists. Colter was starting to crush the life out of him, little bit by little bit. As Gage stopped fighting back Colter got more and more angry. He tried punching Gage, his knuckle catching Gage in his good eye. When that didn’t get Gage to keep fighting? Colter peeled away Gage’s eye patch, shoving a big meaty thumb into the flesh above Porter’s empty eye socket. There was no sound on the video feed, but it was clear Gage was screaming. 

When Gage started to go slack in Colter’s hands, the Overboss threw Gage to the side. He hit the ground hard, rolling slightly with the impact. It took him a moment, just a moment to push himself to all fours. He was coughing and hacking and had a hand clawing at his own throat.

Russell looked away from the screen, taking a moment to check on the boss. He almost wished he hadn’t. She was watching unblinking, just quietly mouthing something like a silent prayer. Russell tilted his head and leaned a little closer, trying to catch her whispered words. 

“Porter no, get out of there. Porter please.”

She winced as Colter got closer and closer to Gage. he had a massive wrench in hand that he had pilfered from his tool box on his way over to his prone second. Gage had landed next to his pistol though, and had the sense to grab it and squeeze off a few shots. The first hit Colter in the leg, the second grazed Colter’s arm. It did nothing. It was like shooting a train while laying on the tracks.

“He tried at least,” Russell said quietly before going silent again. This part just made him sad. It made his heart ache just as much now as it did before. 

Gage turned the pistol around on his own head, staring up at Colter. The desperation was etched into his features as colter got closer and closer. 

He pulled the trigger. 

The gun jammed. 

Kincaid let out a soft gasp. “Oh, Porter. Oh, Porter no.”

“It uh, it gets worse,” Russell warned her, and she looked away from the screen and to him. Her mascara was running down her face, her eyes shimmering with tears. She looked back to the screen, but Russell couldn’t. He couldn’t watch it again. He’d seen it enough times, he’d seen it first hand. He never wanted to see it again. 

Colter had beaten Gage within an inch of his life with that wrench.

At first, Gage had tried to cover his head and neck with his hands, just tried to curl up and take the blows. But Colter wasn’t having it. He slammed his steel toed boots into Gage’s side, and when Gage uncurled he slammed the wrench into the side of Gage’s face, splitting his lip. He continued to wail on his second, bringing down blow after blow until one of the hits caught Gage just so and his head snapped to the side in a way that just looked oh so very wrong. 

Porter went limp, rolling with the next hit. Colter meandered up to him and poked him with the wrench. When Gage didn’t respond he kicked Gage once more in the ribs. It did nothing. He picked Gage up by the face, like a sack of tatos, and just tossed him back into the wall. Gage sank down like a rag doll, and Colter watched him for a moment before shaking his head. 

Pleased with his handy work, Colter left the arena. This left Gage nothing but a bloodied lump against the wall waiting for death to finally take him. It didn’t though. 

“I couldn’t just sit by and watch as my friend died you know?” Russell asked, Kincaid nodding as she watched the RedEye on the screen. The DJ crept into the arena and over to Gage. He’d brought what stims he had, and the first thing he’d done was inject Gage with one before dragging him out of the arena and into the locker rooms. 

“I hid him in there, and then ran to go get Mac,” Russ explained to the boss, who looked at him as the feed cut out. “She brought her kit, and when she got there he wasn’t breathing again. She said something about his esoft-epho-gussyus being crushed. Had to get a plastic tube and shove it down his throat. Get his windpipe open and stuff.”

“What does this have to do with Nisha and the disciples though?” Kincaid asked in a soft whisper. She was afraid of the answer, Russ could tell.

But she asked. And he had to give her the answer. He turned to the computer and slid in a different holo-tape. “Well when Gage recovered, everyone had been pretty damn sure he was dead, I was taking care of him down here, but ain’t no one knew that and we wanna keep it that way in case we gotta do this shit again you know?” Russell flicked on the pictures, stills from the feed and two ten second clips. He heard Kincaid let out a little sound of despair. 

The first picture was Savoy and Dixie in their raider geddups with the masks and the knives and shit, with a couple of other Disciple wackos, hauling a Porter who looked like he was kicking and fighting them. He was gagged, a rag stuffed in his mouth and tied in place. They were pulling him from the Fizztop lobby, dragging him towards the Fizztop depths. And in the first clip? It was Gage kicking and fighting while Savoy had him by the shoulders, Dixie and another girl holding his legs. Gage was doing everything he could to try and get free, and it was futile. The last clip was Gage stumbling out of Fizztop, and to the ground. He shoved himself up and shoved his hand against a growing red stain on his side. He ignored the cut that went from his belt up to his collar bones, leaving a dark red line right up his center as he stumbled almost drunkenly away from the disciple lair. 

“I guess uh, Nisha pulled him aside and showed him what would happen if Colter didn’t die. He wouldn’t give me details, he’d just stare at the wall and get all glassy eyed and shit. About three days later you showed up, took care of Colter. Rest you know,” Russell told her, hitting a button on his keyboard. The screen returned to the live feed of the market. “So whatever happened last night? It wasn’t Porter flirting with an “Operator Floozy” or some shit, it was Dixie delivering a message while you were busy with William.”

“And I told him it was his fault.” Kincaid bit her lip and looked down. 

“You did what now?” Russ felt anger spike in his guts. Porter had enough problems, he didn’t need the boss blaming him for shit he wasn’t responsible for. Kincaid shook her head and wiped her face. “Boss, what did you do?” 

“Thanks, Russ. I gotta go make it right,” Kincaid told him as she stood up. She turned and Russell grabbed her around her wrist. He knew it was a bad idea, he knew what she tended to do to folks who grabbed her with no warning, but he had to know, he had to know his friend was safe.

She reeled around and Russ let go. “Caid, please! Is he ok?” Russell was a hair away from tumbling out of his chair, he was on the literal edge of his seat. “Boss please, he’s like, my only friend-”

“He’s ok. Mostly. Probably in a bad place in his head but I’m going to fix it!” she told him with a nod like she had all the confidence in the world. Like she could fix whatever it was that Nisha did, or that she could heal the wounds Colter left. Russell watched as she marched out of the room, just as quickly as she had come in. 

And he was left there, alone in the security center. 

And it was five in the morning.


	2. Mags: Dinner and Diatribes

When the Overboss invited Mags to go hunting, she was not quite sure what to expect. Kincaid had come down to the Parlor, all dressed in a cute little yellow day dress, her hair perfectly coiffed just so. She had an envelope in hand, sealed with wax and embossed. 

It seemed Kincaid knew the Boss of the Operators well enough to know she would appreciate the effort. 

“It’s a team building exercise,” said Kincaid as she handed over the invitation. “We’ll be going hunting, and I’d like to formally invite you and your personal entourage.”

It was curious, to say the least. Mags accepted the invitation and carefully selected some of her best men to accompany her. She also confirmed that the other gangs were invited via envoy. 

Mason had apparently agreed with much enthusiasm. Nisha, however, Mags learned through her information sources, had turned down the invitation. It was such a shame, for Nisha at least. She was missing a chance to court the favor of the Overboss. She had not begun accepting tribute like Colter had, despite having claimed the first of the parks, so Mags was going to court favor in any way she could. She’d been quite unsure whether or not William should come along, but the choice was taken from her hands when William declared he wouldn’t be going, even if she ordered him to. He claimed to still be too affected by the very public embarrassment the Overboss inflicted on him and Mags knew better than to strong-arm her brother into something he really didn’t want to do.

Mags selected her finest suit and chose her finest rifle for the night of the hunt.

Hunting was an interesting way to frame a raid, so far as Mags was concerned. She sat in her car as her valet drove her to the meeting site. They could see the Gunner nest in the distance, up on the Bradburton overpass. The car pulled to a stop and her valet opened the door. She was greeted by her own men and Pack animals, both literal and figurative, mingling, checking over weaponry, armor, the like. There wasn’t a single Disciple anywhere in sight, as she had expected. She could not help but feel minorly disappointed. It was not often that the gangs worked together on a raid, but she had hoped to see some of Nisha’s loyals’ handiwork. They were brutal but certainly had the capacity to be very creative. It did not really matter, though, not in the long run. The Disciples would reap what the sowed sooner or later.

She found Kincaid in the crowd, by Porter and Mason. It was to be expected, of course, that Kincaid would bring the cyclops along, but she had been soured on Gage’s position since Colter had turned out to be a poor leader. It had become all too clear over the last few months that Gage had hoped that Colter would be his puppet, but had not danced to his strings quite as well as hoped. She was sure he would try to set the new boss up as his puppet as well, but Mags could not yet pin down exactly out who was the puppet and who was pulling the strings. The two were nigh inseparable, and it was hard to argue with their results so far. If she listened to her instincts, and she liked to as often as possible, Kincaid had far more control over Porter then the other bosses, likely even William, gave her credit for.

“Howdy!” Kincaid chimed, waving to Mags. Mags raised her hand and gave her a dignified little wave. She was chipper at least. “We’re getting ready for the initial assault. Come take a look at the map.” Kincaid gestured to Gage to move back so that Mags could step forward for a better look at the table they had gathered around. There was a rough, old map of the area around the overpass torn from a book that had likely been scavenged from the nearby Red Rocket, and the paper on the table was dotted with many little figurines.

“So, the Pack are going to go in first on ATVs, pull the sniper fire,” Kincaid said. She leaned forward with a pink marker in her hand and traced some lines connecting one group of figures with another. “After they have the Gunners distracted, the Operators and ourselves will get our share of the fun. We’ll ride right up to the collapsed side of the overpass and into the thick of it.” Kincaid tapped the map. “Simple, effective.” She nodded and crossed her arms over her metal chest piece. Mason nodded and shouldered his massive super sledge. 

“The trick is to not get shot,” Porter Gage drawled. He stood behind them, carefully watching the boss, his arms crossed over his chest. Kincaid just shrugged and he let out a huff and shook his head. Mags watched how the two of them interacted as close as she was able. She did not want to miss any little piece of body language that could clue her into what was actually going on with the boss and her second. Kincaid definitely did not hang on his every word, and Gage looked at her like he was nothing more than a bodyguard hired to watch her back. It was promising, certainly, but it was more than possible that Gage had just gotten his hooks in that deep that even Kincaid didn’t know she was not anything more than a puppet. 

After the boss had led a rallying cry louder than should have been possible, the first wave of Pack members moved out, with the Operators just behind, and finally the bosses. They descended on the Gunner camp within fifteen minutes, the Pack whooping and howling on their ATVs like the savages they were. The first shots rang out from the Gunners, knocking some of the raiders off their rides. It was a swarm though, and there was no denying sheer numbers. It was at least five raiders for every Gunner. Kincaid was chomping at the bit, excited and bouncing up and down on the ATV selected to carry her and the other bosses to battle. Porter was driving them at Kincaid’s command, like a good little peon. 

Mags sat in the passenger seat with her ankles crossed, hands folded in her lap. Porter was an acceptable driver, not harsh on the breaks. The Boss, however, was being a howling savage with Mason in the back. 

“Faster, Gage! I want to feel the rush!” Kincaid shouted, and Mags watched as he let out a huff. The vehicle steadily gained speed as the two on the back screamed for more. The poor little thing not equipped to handle the sheer weight of the Pack Boss. They hit the ramp up to the camp and Gage came to a stop and hopped out. He helped Kincaid down, and she hit the ground daintily, brushing off her pants. She pulled something from one of the pouches on her belt and looked up to Mags with a wicked grin. 

“See you on the other side.” Kincaid winked at Mags as she flicked the cap off of something. She twirled a syringe in hand and slammed it into her thigh. The Overboss sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. Mags watched curiously as a full body shiver took hold of the boss. It was like she was vibrating in place, with far too much energy to contain. The smile that had taken over Kincaid’s features was just the far side of unsettling. Porter did not look so pleased as he readied his rifle. Kincaid’s gaze snapped over to him and she just stared, unblinking, like some sort of statue. 

“You’ll wanna move,” he said quietly as he motioned Mags over. She looked at him for a brief moment before doing what he said. The moment she stepped out of the way, the Overboss bolted and charged full tilt up the fallen overpass. Like the Pack before her, she climbed up the rubble. Unlike them, however, she seemed to move unnaturally, exactly like the sort of feral animal Pack members wanted to be. Somehow it didn’t look right to Mag’s eyes, like her limbs would twist too far in their sockets and allow her to run almost on all fours. When she started up the Overpass Mags was reminded of old tales of deathclaw mutants, men who would take on traits of the murderous beasts. Mason let out a whoop and ran after her, his sledge at the ready. 

“What was that?” Mags asked, motioning towards the Boss as she hauled herself up the ramp. 

“Psycho,” Gage spoke dryly, a slight twitch of a frown on his lips. That explained a lot. Psycho did strange things to otherwise good men, but it was at least common, if not reasonable, for a raider to take a chem like that, especially before battle. Mags looked back to where the boss had clambered over the Gunner’s defenses. Gage sucked his teeth and started his walk up, Mags tailing behind closely. By all means, she was not green when it came to raids, but it was rather unusual for the boss to charge in so recklessly. She expected Mason, sure, but the Overboss? Not so much. She would figure Gage would protect his investment better, but he didn’t seem worried even a smidge. They dropped several straggling Gunners, beholding the destruction caused by the Pack. It was entirely chaos.

It was mostly Pack in the initial surge of raiders, though she was proud to see a few dark suits amongst the savage animals. The Gunners that ran out of their little ramshackle barracks were easily cut down by gunfire. One Gunner with little armor was sent reeling off the side of the overpass with a swing of Mason’s sledge. Even Mags had to admit, though never out loud, that it was cathartic to see. The Pack animal in front of her crumbled, though, taken out by sniper fire from the top of some scaffolding. Mags drew her weapon and shifted behind Gage for cover. It wouldn’t be much, but he was far more expendable, and he was tall enough where it would help. 

Gage aimed down his sights and popped a few shots off from his rifle, dropping the sniper. He was a surprisingly good shot, considering he had one eye. She had not gone on many raids with the Overboss’s second, as Colter had kept him cooped up in town to be the perfect little punching bag. She was interested to see if it was a fifty-fifty split as far as work went between him and the new Overboss, or if one of them carried more weight in battle. She knew from her reports that the boss was apparently otherworldly, so far as Operator grunts were concerned. Mags doubted the validity of the claims, but even Daniels had said Kincaid was a crack shot with her pistols. 

A scream rang out from the gunner barracks and Gage moved towards it at a leisurely jog. He checked over his shoulder to see if Mags was still following him, his eyebrow arching. “You got a strong stomach?” Gage asked quietly as Mags glared up at him. He had no right to ask such questions of a raider boss. It was not like she was some green thing who had never seen blood nor bullet. She was far from the soft little girl who had left Diamond City so long ago. She snorted with disgust and he rolled his eye, pushing the door open. It fell off its hinges and Mags stared at the inky black abyss just beyond. She felt a chill run up her spine and for a second, she wasn’t sure she wanted to enter. 

There was a squelching sound, and a sort of slurping sound, almost. Gage pulled a flashlight off of his belt and turned it on, scanning the room. 

That was why he asked.

Mags stepped over a mutilated corpse without looking down, staring at the bloodied walls, the bloodied floors, the bloodied ceilings. A piece of gore dripped down and splashed into a puddle of congealing blood just ahead and splattered Mag’s boots. As the light scanned over the room, shadows danced over macabre glimpses into a horrible bloodied scene that would have looked right at home inside of the Fizztop Mountain. She was sure she hadn’t seen a single Disciple, she was sure of it to her core. The Pack were demented, but not like this. 

She stepped around a pool of blood, her eyes adjusting to the dark. The squelching noise had not stopped. In fact, it had only gotten worse. Mags crouched down and examined one of the bodies, poking it with the end of her rifle. Many of the wounds told of the use of heavy blunt force, suggesting something like a sledge or a bat, but swung with more force then she had ever seen. Lizzie would have a field day with all the different types of trauma this corpse had gone through. It didn’t have an arm, it didn’t even have a face left. It was like the flesh was scraped off, leaving only traces of muscle and bone. The eyes stared up at the ceiling sightlessly, and the mouth hung open in a soundless scream. The ceramic of Gunner armor was smashed to bits and some of it was embedded into the chest and chest cavity. 

It was one of several Mags found. 

She stood up and adjusted her suit before glancing around. The walls had streaks of blood, like whoever had ravaged this place was fond of fingerpainting. Porter stood beside the door to the next room in the barracks. He was leaning against the wall and smoking, the ember of his cigarette a beacon in the dark. He let out a puff of smoke, blowing it away from Mags. He watched as she got closer to the door, her hand hovering over the knob. He let out a little chuckle and the Operator boss shot him a glare.

“I don’t recommend it. Might get dirty,” Gage drawled before taking another drag. She paused to look at him, and he only shrugged. He didn’t look like he was teasing her, just stating a fact. She had always had a hard time reading him, he kept everything close to the chest. The only thing that often played across his face was disgust. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She cared not for his warning and opened the door. The squelching noise got even louder, and the slurping and sucking noises were beginning to intermingle. She stepped through and felt Gage follow right behind her. Mags took an instinctive step forward despite the complete darkness inside. Her shoes landed in something sticky and the sounds stopped for a moment. The pause lasted a second before the sounds resumed. Mags could not see anything, but every hair on her arms was on end and Gage’s hot breath behind her did not help. Gage flicked on his flashlight and Mags recoiled. 

Kincaid’s eyes glowed in the light like some sort of monster, reflecting the beams back at them in two bright green dots in the dark. She was perched on a desk, crouched like some sort of gargoyle over a body. Mags couldn’t tell if it was a Gunner, or a Pack Animal, or an Operator, only that it was once a person. Probably. Kincaid had paused what she was doing to stare at them. She assessed they weren’t a threat and went back to her unholy deeds. She was grabbing fistfuls of flesh and shoving them into her mouth, chewing briefly before swallowing.

She was covered in gore, her hair slicked back with blood. Between bites she’d rub her face, trying to get the splatter out of her eyes as she worked on disemboweling the corpse across the desk. 

“Caid?” Porter asked. Kincaid ignored them as she slipped something into her mouth. 

She reached in deep, at least up to her elbow, and pulled out something in her fist. It took a moment for Mags to register that it was a human heart and that Kincaid took a large bite out of it. Mags backed into Gage, who was a solid wall of muscle and metal.

“I warned you,” Porter said softly when Mags tried to back up again. Mags looked at the impassive second before letting her gaze flick back to Kincaid. Something hot and wet suddenly hit her in the face. Mags flinched on reflex, her eyes scrunched shut as something slid down her face and landed on her chest. 

“It’s good eats,” Kincaid’s said, her voice cutting through the horrid noises. The silence was deafening and Mags could hear Kincaid breathing heavily from her perch on the desk. She heard her suck on something, and the gentle pop as she pulled something out of her mouth. Her voice was rough, with a taut rasp to it. “Go ahead Mags. Join me.” 

Mags dry heaved as her eyes fluttered open. Kincaid was sitting on the desk, one leg crossed over the other. She was licking her fingers clean, her pupils blown wide. She looked over at them and tilted her head. She licked her lips and for a moment, just a brief moment, Mags was afraid of being consumed herself. 

Kincaid hopped off the desk and Porter pushed Mags aside gently. Mags took a step and looked up indignantly at the second. He ignored her, stepping past bodies as his flashlight shone pools of light. It was like the darkness was safe, everywhere the light touched was bathed in pieces of people, in blood and guts and god only knew what else. He moved past Mags and towards Kincaid, walking right up to the cannibal. He had something in his hand, some sort of soft pink fabric. It was like he wasn’t disgusted, or afraid, or any other reasonable response to the crimes against nature that had occurred here. 

No, instead he walked right up to the monster and stuck his flashlight in his teeth. He grabbed her by the chin and started using the handkerchief in his hand to wipe most of the gore away from her eyes. She just accepted it, her hands going up to his wrists. She grabbed them gently, but it still did not deter him. When he was done she blinked, seemingly blinded by the flashlight. Mags moved away from the Boss, backing into a wall. The movement attracted Kincaid, who’s gaze locked on her. It was unblinking, just wide empty eyes. Mags felt her skin crawl, and for a moment she was more afraid than she’d ever been in her entire life. 

Porter and Kincaid could kill her right now and no one would be the wiser. William would be undoubtedly easier to manipulate than she was. The sentiment was not helped in the slightest by the demented smile that pulled across Kincaid’s teeth. Those sharp, blood-stained teeth would be enough to give her nightmares for weeks. There was a crash in the next room and Kincaid’s head swiveled toward the sound’s direction with an almost unnatural speed.

Porter watched as she rushed into the next room. He didn’t even flinch at the scream that rang out. He just pulled out his cigs and lit another one. The flash of the lighter revealed the body that was pinned to the wall via Bowie knives for but a moment, before plunging it back into darkness. Mags backed up into the wall and stared at the vague shape of the body she hadn’t seen before. There was a struggle going on in the next room. She could hear it. She could hear the thumping and crying and begging. And she could hear animal-like snarling like Kincaid was ripping into someone alive with just her teeth.

Mags couldn’t help but look at Porter. What kind of monster had he put in charge of them? Was he aware when the woman was going through the gauntlet? Did he become aware after?

Mags had so many questions.

Before she could voice them, he went into the next room. With him, the light went. It was pitch black, the darkness suffocating. The crying had died down into soft noises of distress, of death.

Mags picked her way across the room, her boots splashing through puddles in the floor. The door was broken, falling off its hinges when she pushed it open. This room had windows and the starlight that filtered in bathed the still very much alive Gunner’s face with cool indifference. He was splayed out on a desk, Kincaid kneeling over him with her knife. 

It was some commander if the blood-soaked fatigues were enough to go by. He was stared at Mags with glassy eyes as blood bubbled up from his lips. Kincaid had cut open his shirt and was carving into his chest with a big bowie knife. He was trying to say something, anything, to Mags. It was soundless though, nothing but blood passing his lips. 

Mags was so absorbed in the scene before her she didn’t even realize Porter against the wall, smoking. “Don’t play with your meal,” he chided as if the Overboss were some small child at a dinner table. Mags’ head snapping around to look at him. If he was uncomfortable, he was not showing it. If Kincaid was a monster for what she was doing than what was Gage for allowing it? For the first time, Mags hoped that Gage was the puppet master. The thought of Kincaid, not the Kincaid that wore pretty dresses and handed her embossed invitations, but this Kincaid that had thrown a liver at her face and was attempting to eat pieces of a living person, was a sort of savagery that should not exist without a limit. She very much hoped with all of her being that Gage was in control of this monster.

Kincaid shot him a dirty look as she ran her tongue over her teeth. He seemed unaffected however and just took another drag on his cigarette and looked out one of the blown out windows. When she did not get a reaction out of her second, Kincaid seemed to listen to Gage and decided to end the Gunner’s life. She lifted her knife up and slammed it down, shattering through the sternum to crack open the ribs. The Gunner writhed weakly under her, but Kincaid paid him no mind. She had a goal, and she was going to reach into his chest to get it. 

Mags watched as Kincaid removed his heart, pulling it through the hole. She considered the heart, still writhing and oozing fresh blood as it attempted to continue to beat, briefly as she turned the piece of meat around in her hands. She looked up to Mags with her empty unblinking eyes, staring at the Operator boss. 

She held out her hand, offering the heart to Mags. Mags stared in abject horror, first at the offending gift, and then at Porter who still stood with his cigarette in hand as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Her mind was screaming, but her mouth was drawn into a thin line. There was no way on God's green earth she was going to accept this gift, no way in hell she would take the heart from the boss. Even if she wanted to, there was some part of her that would never allow it. She just could not make herself take the heart, which had stopped moving but still dripped wet, red blood down the boss’s arm.

Mags swallowed back the instinct to vomit on the spot, but only just. With all the visceral immediate responses Mags had to the crime of humanity Kincaid was offending, she was still the Overboss to them all. She normally might not be all that worried, even under Colter, but to offend this boss could be more than just deadly. If Kincaid took Mag’s refusal as an insult, perhaps it would be Mags and William on the table next. She had never imagined she would ever look to Porter Gage for help with anything, but here she was. She glanced at Gage once again, and he just nodded. He took the last drag of his cigarette and put the butt out on the wall before dropping into the pool of blood that had formed on the floor of this room too. 

“Caid, I think Mags prefers her hearts well done,” Gage said. The boss shifted her gaze from Mags to Gage, and Mags felt a relief she hadn’t felt, perhaps since she and William left Diamond City for good. Gage had shifted the boss’s attention to himself. Kincaid just stared at him for a moment. She tilted her head and then nodded as if it was the most sage advice she’d received in her life. She held out the same heart to Gage, and the urge to vomit returned in full force as Gage accepted the bloody heart. “Times wastin’ boss, we gotta rendezvous with Mason soon.” The boss nodded once more and turned back to the very dead Gunner on the ground.

Once Kincaid had shifted her attention, Gage subtly dropped the organ to the floor and covered the sound of it landing in the puddle of blood with a shift of his boots. He frowned at his blood covered hand and reached for the rag he’d used to clean the boss’s face earlier to get the worst of it off.

“You should know how rude it is to refuse a kind gift from the party host. Manners are kinda your thing, right?” Gage said. He was too busy with the rag to look at her, but he didn’t need to for Mags to get the threat. “That’s what she thinks it is. I covered you this time, but I ain’t always around to keep the boss in check.”

Mags didn’t even have a response. She was still reeling from everything she had learned today, still attempting to make sense of what she had seen. It was a welcome relief to see that Gage didn’t eat people like Kincaid did, but that didn’t ease the fact that the Overboss ate her enemies. It would be easy to blame the psycho, but as far as she knew none of her Operators who were addicted to psycho had ever done anything like this. They certainly fought, sometimes killed one another over petty squabbles, but she hadn’t thought it was a thing anyone remotely civilized would even think to do.

She also had to worry about Gage, for that matter. What the everloving hell did he mean, ‘keep the boss in check’? She needed him to be in control, and he wasn’t. What else could he possibly mean by that? This was just something Kincaid did, meaning she could at any time snap? The idea that the boss had been in the Parlor, and had been around her with no one else present haunted Mags. The boss was strong, Mags knew that she’d climbed Colter after dancing around him without breaking a sweat. There was no way in hell that Mags could overpower Kincaid one on one. At any god damn time, Kincaid could snap, decide she didn’t like something Mags and William had done and put them up on a platter. 

If she even bothered with a platter.

She had to leave the room. She had to. She wasn’t even sure she had said anything, let alone gave a polite reason for her quick departure. The smell of blood was suddenly overwhelming. Even when she was outside, the fresh, clean air didn’t help. Once out of view, Mags doubled over and retched against the side of the shack. She didn’t feel any better after, but she took as much time as she could to compose herself before Gage would lead Kincaid outside too. She knew Gage was perceptive enough to know why she had left, but Mags was too proud to acknowledge it. She would pretend ‘til her dying breath that she was unaffected by Kincaid horrid actions.

When the two of them emerged, too soon for Mags’ liking, Kincaid seemed airy. She was so thoroughly covered in gore, but her face had been wiped clean. Mags watched the two of them walk past, and Gage gave her a sideways glance. “Comin’ Mags?” he asked after they were a few steps ahead. 

Mags had enough time to get herself together for the most part. She pushed her shoulder back and stood tall, her mother had always taught her it was best to cover insecurity with the appearance of polish and grace. She could pretend better than any debutante in Diamond City, in her time. She followed Gage down the side of the broken down overpass, where most of the raiders, and Mason, were already waiting. She motioned for her Operators to start collecting their dead for proper burials, and she saw Pack animals doing the same for their own. It was a slice of normalcy Mags needed. It would be okay if she could just pretend she never saw what the boss did today. Mason hadn’t been there, so it would be easy to just put it behind her and move on before they started back for Nuka-Town.

“Good eats tonight, boss?” Mason asked as they drew close. Mags could feel the blood drain from her face as her carefully crafted facade of being vaguely bored cracked into a horrified stare. He ignored her, but he hadn’t said a word to her since they had met up, but she stared at him as she tried to wrap her brain around the fact that Mason knew what the boss was capable of and was as okay with it as Gage was.

“The best,” Kincaid said with a grin too bright not to be called creepy and stepped forward to give Mason a high five. Mags was almost sick again. She needed to be away from here, away from the boss as soon as possible. She extricated herself from the group and directed Daniels to oversee the Operator’s share of the loot back to the Parlor. He could be trusted, at least, after Kincaid had pulled the rug out from under every single assumption she’d made of Kincaid since Colter’s death.

Mags got back in her car and directed her valet to return them to Nuka-Town. She didn’t feel comfortable until she was back in their little piece of civilization in the Parlor. She just wanted to feel in control again, as she sat down in her chair on the old stage.

“Glad you’re back. How’d the hunt go?” William said, from his normal standing position. He had a rag in hand, cleaning his rifle. It reminded her far too much of watching Gage wipe the blood from Kincaid’s eyes and she felt herself go cold again. “What happened? Why are you so pale?”


	3. Mason: Can't Go To Hell

So he was sittin’ there, minding his own damn business, chilling with his sister, catching up, playin’ threes. She was across from him, squinting at her hand of cards. He had his own cards held loose, confident. 

They were at the clinic, where Sierra was on call so that Mackenzie could sleep at some point. There was no rest for the wicked after all, and someone had to be around to patch up raiders who couldn't wait until the morning to do their dumb shit.

He had a lotta catching up to do after the cluster fuck and a half that was Dry Rock Gulch. He wasn’t gone more than a few days, but it had been a busy few days. Mason had to oversee the clean up down in the roller coaster after the Boss-Lady had dragged off Gage to keep him from bleedin’ out, and then Sierra spent a good two days also tryin’ to keep ol’ One Eye from dying with Mackenzie. He imagined Gage wouldn’t come asking about numbers for a least a week, so he had time to just sit and play cards with his favorite girl.

And then she put down a god damn ace. Fuck. Well, maybe second favorite girl. He hated the way she grinned like a cat that got the cream. 

“What? Don’t have anything higher than an ace?” she asked as though she were some innocent little vaultie. Mason frowned as he narrowed his eyes at his hand and then at the pile of cards on the table between them. There was a good half of the deck that he’d have to pick up and he had to find a way to turn the tables. He groaned and started to reach for the pile.

That’s when they both heard the jets and the beeping, and the screechy whirly bullshit. Sierra perked up and Mason turned in his chair. If ED-E was coming, that meant the boss wanted one of them and wanted them stat. 

“See if Kenzie’s willing to make a house call,” ED-E buzzed, weaving back and forth. “He’s got fever and chills,” the bot was playing Kincaid’s voice, and just kept repeating ‘He’s got fever and chills’ over and over again until Si had grabbed the doctor bag and shoved it full medical doohickies and shit. Mason looked at the cards on the table and briefly thanked god for whatever fuckin’ bullshit Gage was pulling for saving his pride. He shoved himself up and Sierra looked up at him, trying to fit another pack of something into the leather bag. 

“You can head back to the Zoo. I’m probably not gonna be back for a while.” She pulled closed the zipper on the bag and Mason just shrugged and grabbed for the straps before Sierra could sling it over her shoulder. 

“Nah, I don’t mind goin’ up and chillin’ with the Boss-Lady.” He picked up the bag for her and she wrinkled her nose.

“You know you’re just going to end up getting in the way, right?” she said. She tried to reach for her doctor’s bag, but Mason moved it out of her reach which wasn’t hard with how short she was. 

“Yeah, I know,” was all he said. She pouted, like she did, but didn’t argue further. 

“Alright,” she said. “You can be useful and carry this too.” Sierra, tiny but strong as ever, easily lifted a large metal lockbox along one wall. Mason glared at her. There was no reason she’d need the clinic’s whole chem case, but he saw what she was trying to do. He wouldn’t be pushed away from something this interesting by something as minor as a lockbox.

He shifted the straps of the doctor’s bag so it would rest over his shoulder and held his hands out for the chem case. Sierra gave him the little smirk she liked to do when she thought she had won and handed over the case. 

Mason had to dip down to compensate for the unexpected weight and he let out a quiet grunt. It thunked against the floor before Mason hauled it back up and screwed his face up. He could easily lift the weight but he expected it to be lighter.

“Ok Si, what the fuck you all keep in this thing? Rocks?” Mason asked as his sister laughed her little fool head off. 

“Chems. Obviously,” Sierra told him, prancing right out the door with the little scrap bot on her heels. Mason rolled his eyes and followed along, padding after Sierra as they walked down the cobbled pathways that led up to Fizztop. She hit the button for the patio and they both watched as the elevator slowly descended. 

It was late, real late. Or was it early? It was the sorta time where you ain’t sure if it's real early in the morning or real fuckin’ late at night. Most of the raiders were in bed or off in their own little groups, quiet. Hell, if Mason didn’t know the raiders of Nuka-Town like he did, he’d think it was peaceful. Sierra stepped onto the rickety elevator first, then he followed suit. It hauled them up over the air and Mason turned, admiring the park. Hell, from this height, he could see Dry Rock. 

And it was his. Entirely fuckin’ his. It wasn't official yet, but Kincaid told him it would be his. 

Just the sight of it in the distance made his cold, black heart warm right up, and he turned back to the patio. 

“Mackenzie?” Kincaid piped up as the pair stepped into the dilapidated restaurant. 

“Guess again,” Mason called out, and Kincaid’s head poked out from behind her privacy curtain.

“Oh, Mason, Si! Was Mac asleep?” she asked, and Sierra nodded as she jogged over to the little section of the room Kincaid had claimed for herself. 

“Yeah, I’m the one on call tonight. Hope you don’t mind I brought my asshole brother with me,” Sierra responded, holding open the curtain for Mason. Mason hadn’t seen Kincaid’s little room, and he was not disappointed. She had bottles of glowing something all strewn around, lighting up her little area in myriad colors. She also had stripped everything that was Colter’s out and replaced it with fuzzy soft things, all in yellows and pinks and a couple of splashes of blue. Almost looked like a Pack Animal had gone nuts, and Mason approved. 

“I’m not sure Gage would want Mason seein’ him like this. You know he’s kinda weird about that sorta thing.” Kincaid sighed, though she made no move to shoo Mason out. She just went back over to where Gage was laying on her bed, covered in three or four blankets. He was all but panting, shivery and pale. He looked clammy, but Mason sure as fuck wasn’t going to touch him to find out. “I’ve... I haven’t really ever been sick so I don’t know what’s going on,” Kincaid told Sierra as she ran a hand through her hair. Most of it was pulled back, but she looked a little bit like a crazy old lady on the edge of a settlement with too many cats and too much time on her hands. 

“The hell you mean you ain’t never been sick?” Mason asked, setting down the doctor bag and chem case on the foot of the bed. He narrowed his eyes at Kincaid as he processed this new information. Especially out in the wastes like this, it was inevitable that everyone got real sick at one time or another. Even he had caught a real bad flu once years ago, before they had left the original Zoo down south. Sierra and Tiger said he’d complained like a baby, but they’d kept him from dying, either from symptoms or other raiders who might want to rise up in the world by taking out an easy target.

Kincaid let out a sigh and looked over at him. “I mean exactly what I’ve said. I don’t get sick. I probably got like, some fuckin’ cyborg shit. Fuck if I know.” she shrugged and Mason dropped it. Fair enough.

Sierra went to the bedside and put her hand on Gage’s forehead. This would have been all well and good but the man tried to throw himself back. He couldn’t, not with the number of blankets Kincaid had wrapped around him, but he tried. He thrashed around a bit, muttering and moaning about something as his eye fluttered open. Mason took a step back, keeping out of Gage’s field of view. The last thing Sierra needed was Gage getting worse because he could see one of the bosses.

It wasn’t really a typical raider thing to let people see you when you were sick, even if sometimes it couldn’t be helped. And Mason knew that Gage was an old-time raider, old-time by a good decade if half the stories that floated around about Gage were true. And old-time Raiders had their rules, and those rules were never broken. 

There were hierarchies and weird things the Pack did not really follow. They had the one rule of alpha and then everyone else fell into line. But that was atypical. It wasn’t important at the moment, what was more important was Sierra pulling those blankets off Gage. Mason wanted to help, but he also knew that just being in the room would add an element of chaos that wouldn’t be healthy for Gage.

It was always a sight to behold when Sierra got serious with her work. It was part of the reason he had her fixing hurt animals in the first place. He stood just outside the curtained area and just watched her bark orders. Kincaid, looking more like a timid bunny rabbit than a hyperactive hummingbird, didn't question her a bit and just did exactly as Sierra directed. Mason hadn't forgotten that Kincaid wasn't a raider, even though his second loved to remind him. Tiger took about the same liking to Kincaid as Nisha had, but he hoped she'd mellow out now that Dry Rock was Pack territory.

"Take the chem case and set it here. I also need water," Sierra said. "Purified, and as close to room temperature as you can get."

Mason helped Kincaid lift the metal case from the end of the bed. She didn't flinch or even acknowledge the weight of it. She just took the case while she stared off into space with an occasional glance back at Gage, who was still wrapped up in bed. Sierra had eased off two of the blankets that Kincaid had piled on him, but Gage simply refused to let go of the third one. His knuckles were white as he gripped a bunched up corner with both fists, even though Sierra had stopped tugging on it.

"Um, Boss, I might need your help here," Sierra said as Kincaid came back with a metal bucket filled with clear water. Kincaid took one look at Gage, all tense and stiff, and pushed the bucket into Mason's hand. It didn't spill, but it did splash all over one of his pant legs. Kincaid didn't even notice as she rushed to Gage's side.

"It's okay," she cooed softly as she leaned over him. He relaxed at just her voice but still held tight to the blanket. "You're safe here with me. I promise. You don't have to cling to the blanket."

Gage mumbled something too quiet for Mason to hear, but he was sure he heard the word stars. It didn't make sense to him, but it was like a lightbulb just dinged above Kincaid's head.

"I won't take it then. I just need to move it to the side so the doctor can take a look at you," Kincaid told him. She brushed a hand gently down one side of Gage's face and Gage leaned into the touch. Mason also didn't quite hear Gage's next response, but it sounded like the universal raider noise of 'I don't need a fucking doctor.' Kincaid ignored it though as she gently shifted the blanket so he could still hold on to it without covering him.

With the blankets out of her way and her workspace clear, Sierra shooed both of them out of the room. Kincaid tried to argue but Sierra just wouldn't hear it. Mason led her away from the room for everyone's safety. Sierra was already preparing a Med-X syringe and the last thing anyone needed was an unexpected dose because Kincaid couldn’t keep her emotions in check.

“Let’s just go get some food or something. The cafe should still be open,” Mason suggested. He was sure she’d been cooped up in Fizztop since they got back from Dry Rock. She had dark circles under her eyes that said she probably hadn’t slept since then either. He thought she might do well to get out and have something to distract her for five minutes, but Kincaid shook her head.

“I won’t leave,” she said. “I promised Gage.”

“He ain’t gonna know if you leave for a bit-” Mason tried.

“I made a promise,” she said. She glanced over to the curtain that gave Gage some privacy, “I can’t leave, if he comes to with just Sierra here, and I’m gone?” She looked over at Mason, and he could see in her eyes that she was dead serious. “It will be bad,” she finished. “I don’t know what he’ll do, but I’m half worried he’d walk right into the Disciples den by accident tryin’ to find me.”

“And why would that be bad? They’re Disciples, not Brotherhood,” Mason asked as he plopped down on the hideous red couch Kincaid had pushed up against the booths that lined the edge of the restaurant. Kincaid started to pace back and forth as she wrung her hands. 

“They hurt him bad, Mason. Gage isn’t exactly an open book, so I’m not sure exactly what Nisha did, but she did something.” Kincaid walked over to one of the armchairs scattered about and fell into it with a big thump. “I know she cut him up the middle. He’s got the scars to prove it, and I think she stabbed him under the ribs. I think she threatened him too, the kind that gets under your skin. I just know when the Disciples are discussed he gets, well, fidgety and nervous. Starts checkin’ over everything like he’s gonna get snatched away.” Kincaid pushed her hair back again before letting out of its bun and letting the wild curls halo her head. 

“Russ showed me the footage, they grabbed him right out of the lobby, they had him by his legs, his shoulders, they shoved a rag in his mouth and-”

“Caid, relax.” Mason got up and stood in front of her. She looked up at him and he could see the tears starting to bubble up. “Start from the top, when the fuck did this happen and why ain’t you told me about it?” He was already going over mental plans to get Pack patrols to Fizztop. He was not about to let those fucking psychopaths hurt his hummingbird. 

He wondered idly if Kincaid would let him post Pack inside the hotel. 

“This was before I was Overboss-”

Wait. What? 

Mason stared at Kincaid before plopping down on the coffee table. He rested his elbows on his knees and Kincaid ran her hands down her face. “Apparently, there was a point where Gage was put out of commission by Colter, real bad. I saw it on the security footage.” Mason was going to have to make a point to get his hands on that video. He couldn’t go down there himself, since Russ would just delete whatever files he had stored out of misplaced loyalty to Gage. He wasn’t sure if RedEye and Sierra were on or off at this point, but at least she had a chance to get the footage.

“Ok Boss-Lady, lemme get this straight, you’re this worried over something that happened months ago?” he asked. He wasn’t being incredulous, just confirming. Kincaid shook her head though and pulled her legs up against her chest. 

“No, no, the first time happened months ago,” Kincaid clarified, “I’m not as worried about it as much as he is, but I don’t want him giving himself a heart attack because I left.” Kincaid looked at Mason as she pressed her cheek to her knee. “The most recent incident with the Disciples was at Mags’ party, so far as I know.” She looked away and let out a quiet little huff that said a thousand things about how she felt. “Something coulda happened between now and then, but if it did Gage didn’t tell me. He’s funny like that.”

Mason narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose. “What happened at the party?” Kincaid spent some time explaining that while William had been licking the hair off her arm and Mason had been laughing his ass off, ‘some disciple named Dixie’ slipped her knife between Gage’s ribs to make a point about Dry Rock.

“That why you gave us the park?” Mason asked, and Kincaid shrugged and made a face. 

“Kinda? Not really. I just made a promise that Nisha wouldn’t see a single fuckin’ inch of these fuckin’ parks and I intend to keep it. She’s given me no reason to break it.” Kincaid shrugged and Mason had to admit, that took balls. Most folks wouldn’t dream of screwing over Nisha like that, but here Kincaid had decided that, so far as she was concerned, only two gangs were in the running for territory. Despite the fact the murder stabbies were right under her feet.

“Boss?” Sierra called and Kincaid shot up, charging towards her room. Mason watched as she slipped past the privacy curtain. Mason stared after her. Nisha had no idea who she was fuckin’ with by fuckin’ with Gage. He really wasn’t the park’s favorite punching bag anymore, it was just plain bad for your health to pick on him.

Mason strained his hearing, he could hear Gage muttering something. Mason got up and crept real quiet to the curtain. “Don’t go, you can’t go,” Gage was begging. Mason ain’t never heard the man beg. Not when Colter slammed his face into market stalls or kicked him into arcade machines. It was one of those Old Raider sorts of things. They never begged, not for anything. 

Hell, when Lady Bird had sent Sierra up to Colter as tribute and Mason decided to tell Colter where to stick it, he’d seen what Colter often did up close. He’d ridden that elevator, a revolver tucked into his pants. He was fully ready to shoot the fucking bastard, but instead, he saw Gage at the bar, a frosted over bottle of cola pressed against his black and blue cheek. The old raider was battered to hell, with angry red marks across his throat. Gage had looked over and snarled, like the bristly old man he was, and told him “get lost kid, boss ain’t here.”

And now he was begging. He was begging Kincaid not to leave.

“Gage please, I’ve gotta go get your bed cleaned up. You can’t stay out here you’ll catch a chill,” Kincaid sighed, and Sierra came out of the little area. She looked up at Mason, her brows knit together. 

“She’s gotta take a break, she’s wearing herself down thin tryin’ to take care of his every whim,” Sierra whispered, real quiet-like. “But someone gotta be in here watchin’ him.” She looked up at Mason, and he let out a soft groan. Of course. Of course, she’d wanna put him on babysittin’ duty. “Look, I heard you try and get her out of Fizztop, and it didn’t work. It’s a good idea to get her away for a bit, so maybe I can get her to open up inside the Grille, get her to relax some.” Sierra looked back towards the curtain. “He ain’t gonna die, and I can take her down to the laundry room and get everything clean for when Mackenzie gets here.” 

Mason made a face. He didn’t want to be stuck watching Gage. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the man, by all means, Gage had always done right by him, but it was boring. That dose of Med-X would be kickin’ in and he’d just be sitting next to a comatose raider with nothing to fuckin’ do. 

“Please?” Sierra asked, and Mason rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he grit out and a smile pulled across her face. She led him into the little sectioned off area, and Kincaid looked up. 

“Mason’s gonna watch him while we go get everything clean,” Sierra told Kincaid, and Mason nodded in confirmation. “Don’t worry, he ain’t gonna die, he’s stable.” Sierra went over to Kincaid and helped her stand up. Kincaid let go of Gage’s hand and it hung limply off the bed. 

Gage was only just covered with the blanket he refused to let go off, he was still just in a pair of ratty gym shorts and a sling for his arm, but otherwise naked as a jaybird. Mason had never really seen Gage unclothed before tonight, and he wasn’t sure if he was surprised how much the wasteland had sunken into his skin. The man was scarred all to hell, with light little burn scars crawling up his back and more knicks and scratches then Mason could count. It looked like Gage treated his wounds with a healthy dose of Nuka-Orange, and then picked at them so they didn’t heal right.

And he had a shitty tattoo on his shoulder blade that looked old, real fuckin’ old. 

And the man was thin, thinner then Mason expected. When he was wearing that roll cage he looked significantly bulkier but like this? It was like he didn’t eat when he was a kid, and then when he was grown he still didn’t eat. His skin was sunken between ribs that had been pretty obviously broken multiple times. They hadn’t healed quite right and Mason could almost trace where Gage had been hit with something heavy. If Mason spent the time, he could probably count every vertebra along Gage’s spine. 

He’d admit if anyone had cared to ask, he was lookin’ for those scars Kincaid had mentioned. But they didn’t, instead, Sierra was herding Kincaid out of the room and grabbing her doctors bag and chem case. “It’ll be just a little bit, just until we’ve got all the blankets cleaned and fresh sheets on,” Si told him with a nod, and Mason gave her a little wave. 

And then he was here, stuck with sleeping beauty. At least Gage was better company than usual like this, if exceptionally boring. It wasn’t long before Mason started to feel restless, like he did, and looked around the room Kincaid had created for herself. He looked around and played with the little knick-knacks on her dresser, a pack of cards, a snow globe with Goodsprings printed on the bottom, a poker chip with a logo for a casino called the Sierra Madre, a bottle cap for a soda Mason ain’t heard of before with a blue star on the inside, and a couple bills of NCR money. That confirmed the rumors the Boss-Lady was from out west, or at least spent some time there. There were a couple of little toys, a plastic dinosaur and a tiny glowing rocket, as well as a little ceramic cat that Mason thought Tiger would have loved. That last one was locally acquired, by the Nuka logo on the bottom.

Inside the dresser gave Mason a few fewer insights, except that maybe Kincaid preferred frilly underthings. He hadn’t needed to know that, but that’s what he got for snooping in the first place. He made sure everything looked the same as when he found it and closed the drawer he’d opened. Her wardrobe, where she hung her dresses, was equally boring. He was pretty sure the guitar that leaned against it was one of RedEye’s if the flames crudely drawn with a thick black marker on the sides were any indication.

Mason heard Gage make a noise behind him and he hurried to close the wardrobe door. Gage hadn’t woken up, Mason found when he turned, but he was fussing in his sleep and that wasn’t a good sign. He wondered if he should go run for Sierra since she was the medical expert here, but if she was down in the laundry room Kincaid had been fixing up, it was possible he couldn’t make it there and back before anything happened to Gage.

Gage muttered and grumbled, now on his back, and Mason saw the scar Kincaid had mentioned. It went right from the waistband of his shorts up to his collarbones. It wasn’t a thick scar by any means, but it was an obvious one. As was the scar between his ribs and the one just below them. Mason went over, quiet as a mouse. Gage didn’t have his eye patch on, so the keloid flesh that covered his eye socket was on full display. 

Looked like he’d had half his face ripped off. 

Gage groaned again and Mason jumped a little bit. Gage’s eye was fluttering, but not open, so far as Mason could tell. He must have been seeing something though because Gage shoved his free hand into his good eye and let out a pathetic noise before rolling over onto his other side. He was muttering again and Mason leaned a little closer to listen, hovering just over the bed.

“Aw fuck, aw fuck.” Gage hissed, no higher than a whisper. “God shits in my dinner.” Now that was a turn of phrase if ever Mason had heard one. Must have been one of those ‘Gage-isims’ that Kincaid had been telling him about. She found them endearing.

“Gage?” Mason asked, real low. If the fucker was awake Mason needed to know. He’d need to get Sierra, and probably get Gage more Med-X. Instead, Gage went still, entirely fucking still. Not even breathing. Mason’s eyes widened and he put a hand on Gage’s shoulder.

And that was when shit hit the fan. Metaphorically. Gage lashed out with his good arm and his legs kicked out like he was fighting off someone. Mason ducked under the hail mary aimed his way and when Gage rolled over his eye was wide open. 

Mason would have thought the man had gone fucking feral from the way he stared. The lights were definitely on, but no one was fuckin’ home. Gage kicked back and scrambled across the bed, falling off the far side. Fuck. Mason popped and up and went around the bed, hoping to cut Gage off if he intended to run. Instead, he found Gage digging through Kincaid’s side table. 

“Where is it, where is it?!” Gage muttered, ignoring Mason. “Wheres my fuckin’ gun?” Mason froze in place. Gage let out a half sob as his brows knit together and he shoved the drawer closed before he curled up on himself. His free hand went into his sparse hair. He was shaking like a fucking leaf, his entire body tense. 

“Kincaid’s still around, she’s just cleaning up inside. You don’t gotta shoot me, promise.” Mason told Gage as he crouched down to Gage’s level. Gage wheezed and stared at Mason. There still was no comprehension there, his pupil was blown all to shit and it was like talking to a wall. “I can take you inside, to Kincaid, you wanna go to Kincaid?” Mason kept his voice real low, real even. He felt bad like he was treating Gage like a terrified dog, but the man wasn’t much more than that right now. 

“You stay away from her!” Gage snarled and bared his teeth, the shaking increasing. “You touch her and so help me god I will kill you with my bare hands!” He didn’t look very threatening, wedged between the wall and the side table like he was, but Mason was sure Gage would make good on that threat as soon as he was able. “She’s good and kind and she doesn’t deserve what you’d do to her. She doesn’t deserve any of it!” Gage’s voice hitched and his hand went over his mouth. 

“I ain’t done shit to her and you know that,” Mason grumbled as he took a step closer. Gage shoved himself back or at least tried to. “I’ll take you to the Boss-Lady, just fuckin’ breathe for ten seconds-”

“Let her go!” Gage roared and shoved forward. Mason was barely able to back up before Gage was on him like a fucking madman. Mason had managed to get his feet under him before Gage tried to tackle him down, so he was just staggered as Gage seemed to try and climb up his torso. If it hadn’t been clear before that Gage wasn’t exactly seeing reality, it was crystal now. “She ain’t responsible for what happened to you! I did it! Me! I killed you!” Gage asserted as he clawed at Mason. Mason shoved Gage off out of instinct, but couldn’t help the wince when Gage hit the floor hard. 

Gage propped himself up on his good elbow, and the shaking came back even worse. The man was pale, too god damn pale. Looked like he was going to be sick. “I killed you. It was me. I pulled the trigger.”

“I’m not whoever you think I am.” Mason asserted, but Gage didn’t appear to hear him. Mason crouched back down, despite the gut instinct not to. Every fiber in his body was screaming that Gage would try and claw his face off again, but Mason was far more worried than he was afraid. He was worried to hell and back. This was closer to the Porter Gage he knew before Colter started beatin’ the hell out of him, but it was so different than the man Gage had become since then.

Maybe this was why he was so against using chems, and honestly Mason didn’t blame him. 

Gage let out a pathetic noise and stared up at Mason. Mason couldn’t even tell what color Gage’s eye was anymore, his pupil was so blown. His chest was heaving like he couldn’t get enough air. He kept up like this and he was going to pass out, and Mason didn’t think that was a good thing. The problem, however, Mason couldn’t leave Gage alone to go get Si, but he knew shit for shit when it came to how to treat whatever the fuck it was Gage was going through. 

“I ain’t sorry,” Gage muttered as tears started to run down his face. “I don’t regret it, not at all. Maybe I oughta, but I don’t.” Mason took a cautious crouch step forward and Gage tried to scoot back. “Not after what you did.” 

“I told you, I’m not whoever you’re seeing. I didn’t do whatever it is you think I did!” Mason growled, real deep in his chest. Gage flinched and sucked in a wheezy breath that was interrupted by violent coughing. Mason got closer and Gage just stared up at him in terror, frozen on the spot as he tried to get enough air into his lungs. In any other circumstance, Mason always took it as a compliment when people feared him. Right now though? Not so much. He needed Gage to trust him, and there was anything but written across the old raider’s face. 

“I know we were friends, and what I did was real rotten, even as far as raiders go- but you deserved it. You deserved that goddamn puck as much as I deserve this!” Gage told him, his hands clenched into fists. 

“Gage, who the fuck do you think I am?” Mason asked, honestly confused. Gage wasn’t seeing him, that was for damn sure, but who the hell was Gage seeing that caused this much fucking terror? There were so many rumors that floated around about Gage’s past, it was hard to tell which ones were the truth and which ones were more embellishment than anything. If even half the rumors were true, Gage could have a dozen enemies like that.

“If this is actually fuckin’ hell, then you’re stuck in here with me just as much as I’m stuck in here with you, Colter,” Gage growled real low, the kinda growl that made Mason back up and take stock of the situation. So that was who he was seeing, and honestly, that made every single hair on Mason’s body stand up. He knew fully fucking well Gage would kill Colter happily, ten times over if he could.

The sheer glee he had on his face when they dumped Colter into the river had sent chills down Mason’s spine. Gage had enjoyed it, viscerally enjoyed it. Mason distinctly remembered making a comment about Gage fitting in with Nisha’s crew, and he remembered how Gage looked at him. It was the same sorta frenzy Gage had now, albeit the man had been in far more control.

Mason took a step back, and Gage shoved himself up. His legs wobbled like a newborn radstag, thanks to the bloodworm bites that had peppered them and weakened the muscles. But Mason did not think for a second Gage wouldn’t lunge at him again. He was just glad the Boss-Lady didn’t seem to keep weapons by her bed, no matter how inadvisable it was.

Gage took a step forward, his eye locked on Mason. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you again. I’ll kill you as many times as I gotta keep her safe.” Gage shambled forward and his good hand clung to the bed to keep steady. “And I’d say it's nothin’ personal, but really?” a smile spread across Gage’s lips that looked a bit more like he was baring his teeth, “It’s real fuckin’ personal.” 

Shit. 

Mason bolted and Gage tore after him. A man who had just been ate up by that many worms and hand one arm in a sling should not have been able to move that fast. Mason hopped the stairs that led up to Kincaid’s little bedroom and bolted for the Grille. Gage was hot on his heels, and he let out a roar that reminded Mason a little too much of a rabid animal.

Mason felt Gage hit him, and the two men tumbled through the broken doors to the Grille. Gage got on top and Mason was surprised how hard the scrawny old raider could hit. The first punch connected with Mason’s nose, and he felt the spray of blood. Gage reared back and hit again, his eye wide and frenzied as he wailed on the Alpha.

Mason shifted and threw Porter off, sending the old raider careening into a table. Mason winced at the choked sound Gage made and the blood that flowed freely down Gage’s face. Mason got ready as Gage started to shove himself back up, though the old man looked dazed Mason was not about to let his guard down. Gage just stared at him, panting like a dog who was overheating. His eye was glassy, and his face all sorts of flushed. Mason could see how Gage quivered with exhaustion, but the old raider wasn’t backing down. 

“I’ll kill you. Kill you with my bare hands if I gotta,” Gage muttered, pulling his hand down his face.

“You’ll kill yourself first if you don’t calm the fuck down,” Mason countered. He knew it was useless but if even a little bit got through Porter’s thick skull then maybe the man would back down. It didn’t though, and Gage snarled real low and started to move away from Mason. He was heading towards what Mason could only assume was his bed. Mason moved to cut the raider off, fully aware that Porter would have a gun there without fail. 

Gage went to bolt and Mason tackled him to the ground, pinning his good arm behind his back. Gage roared again and tried to struggle, but Mason planted his ass directly in the center of Gage’s back. The raider was powerless to move the Alpha, but boy did he try. Mason kept the man pinned until all the raider could do was rant and rave between gasping breaths. Even though Porter had stilled Mason didn’t move. He wasn’t about to get shot because the Boss-Lady’s second had decided that he was Colter. It was almost insulting. He was a way better leader than that dick had ever been. 

“You done?” Mason asked, and Gage just grit out a universal noise for ‘fuck you’ from where his face was smushed into the tile. That was fine, Mason could live with that. The Alpha got up and Gage stayed down, wheezing with his eye half-closed. Mason rolled the man over and Gage just went with it, limp like a doll.

“Just kill me.” Gage coughed with a wince. “Just kill me and get it over with.” 

“Nope,” Mason sighed, patting the side of Gage’s face. Gage was none too happy, but he was apparently too exhausted to fight back. He just laid there glassy-eyed with his skin too hot. Mason winced a little bit as he grabbed Gage by the chin and inspected the damage to his nose.

God, Mason was never going to be able to convince Sierra that Gage broke his nose himself. He’d never hear the end of it.

Gage whimpered and tried to bat away Mason’s hands, but honestly, it was like butterfly kisses compared to the punches the raider had been throwing before. He left Porter on the ground as he stood up, looking around the empty restaurant. 

“Sierra? Caid?” Mason called out into the empty Grille, and all was silent. Fuck. he wasn’t sure he’d ever gone to the laundry room from here, and quite frankly he wasn’t sure he could get Gage that far. Gage was reciting a litany of creative curses from the floor, one after the other as if he didn’t need to breathe as Mason explored the Grille.

The two women weren’t over by the bed Mason assumed was Gage’s, though the doctor bag was, they weren’t in the kitchen, or the pantry, or the bathroom either. It meant they were in the laundry room, and Mason let out a groan of frustration as he padded around the torn apart restaurant.

Fuck. 

Mason went back over to Gage and scooped the man up. Gage squirmed in his arms but it wasn’t so much that Mason couldn’t hold onto the man. He tucked Gage up against his chest and looked around, trying to figure out what door led to the rest of the hotel. 

Mason shouldered open the door to the hotel and started his descent down into the depths. At least he remembered that the laundry room was on the thirteenth floor. As the descended, Gage decided to fill the silence with ravings more befitting a lunatic than the boss’ second. He muttered about the things he was going to do to Mason, about how he wasn’t sorry in the slightest that he’d killed Colter, about how he was just sorry he didn’t take Nisha down with him. That was fair, so far as Mason was concerned. 

Mason heard the tumble of the dryers when they got to the thirteenth floor, and he started to follow his ears. Gage seemed to calm down at the sound, going slack in Mason’s arms. Mason would have been worried if the ravings had stopped. They’d just stopped being violent in nature.

“I liked watching the laundry,” Gage muttered quietly into Mason’s arm. “I liked watching the colors, but only if she was there too,” Gage let out something a little too close to a sob for Mason’s comfort, and Mason looked down. Gage was trying to hide his face, but Mason could see the tears running down his cheeks. “I ain’t gone soft,” Gage cried as his good hand grabbed at the fabric of Mason’s shirt. “I ain’t gone soft, I ain’t, I swear”

“Sure, you’re tough. Like, I dunno,” Mason muttered as Gage continued to cry into his arm. “Cotton candy bites?” That was a little low, but honestly, Mason found it a little bit funny and he actually heard Gage chuckle quietly.

“Fuck you too, you filthy animal,” Gage grumbled, and Mason stopped in surprise. He could see that Gage’s eye was a little glassy but not near as frantic as before. Mason padded down the halls until he could track the sound of the tumbling dryers from a specific door. He peeked in and he could smell it before he saw it. He sighed and tried not to get angry, even though Sierra had promised him she’d stop.

“Sierra?” Mason asked, and he heard a yelp and clatter of a metal box. He saw Kincaid leaning over the chem box, both of her hands on it like she’d shoved an opossum inside and it was fighting to get out. He could smell the jet in the air though and knew full well what the two of them were doing. 

“Don’t tell Gage,” Kincaid blurted out, looking up at Mason. Then her eyes locked on Gage in his arms and all the color drained from her face. “Oh god,” she muttered and Sierra got up to put herself between Mason and Kincaid.

“It was my idea-”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, but I don’t care about that this minute. He’s sick. Fix him,” Mason told Sierra as he moved Gage. Gage let out a groan and his head lolled back. His eye was getting even more out of focus, and it was still blown to shit. His skin was getting hotter too, which probably meant whatever Sierra had given him when they got there was starting to wear off. “He tried to kill me, like, three times,” Mason explained.

He was going to ignore that Kincaid was huffing jet, that was her business. But Sierra? She was going to get an earful when they got back to the Zoo. There was a time and a place for chems, but when the second to the Overboss was hella sick was sure not one of them. 

Honestly, Mason did not feel like he should be the responsible party in this situation.

And yet. 

Here he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set right after "Save Me Some Sunshine" in The Devil You Know. Theres a lot Gage doesn't remember during his fever, and part of that is some of the doctors don't realize Gage shouldn't be given full doses of Med-X.
> 
> Also, Mason. I love him.


End file.
